


stained teeth

by heatdeath (keptein)



Series: vampire akaashi [2]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Begging, Blood Drinking, Blood Kink, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-29
Updated: 2019-03-29
Packaged: 2019-12-26 10:25:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18281141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keptein/pseuds/heatdeath
Summary: Keiji had to know Koutarou wanted it, despite the care he took. There was no hiding how he felt after they’d drank from him, and he knew they were shrewd enough not to chalk his blown pupils and bitten-off moans to adrenaline and pain. But it remained unspoken between them, and Koutarou was content with that. He knew Keiji couldn’t afford to let go with him, not truly, and he never wanted them to strain themselves just so he could pretend that he had undone them.





	stained teeth

**Author's Note:**

> pwp sequel. (yes i know there was porn in the first one but not porn like THIS.) akaashi uses they/them and bokuto is a trans dude (he/him). ty ace and raleigh. heed the tags, please!

Koutarou had been very careful not to mention it since the first time. It was hard, not to urge their teeth to his skin during sex, but he didn’t want to burden Keiji with impossible wants. He imagined the rush of them biting down even as he bit back pleas and hid them in kisses, the heady, obscene pleasure magnified thousandfold by their slick heat inside him. He mimicked it sometimes when he was alone, forearms littered with parodies of their bites as he touched himself, but nothing compared to the image of them, their teeth sharp and tender all at once.

Keiji had to know he wanted it, despite the care he took. There was no hiding how he felt after they’d drank from him, and he knew they were shrewd enough not to chalk his blown pupils and bitten-off moans to adrenaline and pain. But it remained unspoken between them, and Koutarou was content with that. He knew Keiji couldn’t afford to let go with him, not truly, and he never wanted them to strain themselves just so he could pretend that he had undone them.

Then one day, Keiji brought it up. Without warning orpreamble, as they were curled up together watching TV: “Do you still think about me drinking from you while we have sex?”

Koutarou choked, instinctively freezing, and pulled away. “No,” he lied weakly when he was able to speak, clearing his throat several times. “No, not really. Why?”

“I do,” Keiji said. “ A lot.”

Koutarou’s breath hitched. Immediately, he knew that Keiji knew that he had lied, and Keiji knew too. Their hand tightened on Koutarou’s side, pulling him closer into them. “What,” he started, and licked his lips before he spoke again to gather himself, “what do you think about?”

Keiji sat straight on the couch while Koutarou was slouched, making them taller than usual.Their breath ghosted over his ear, voice low as they spoke. “I think about whether you’d taste even better when you’re coming.”

The fabric of his pants bunched as Koutarou’s hands clenched into white-knuckled fists on his thighs. He couldn’t convince Keiji that he wasn’t enraptured by their words, but he still tried his best. He squirmed out of their grip on his waist, moving away from them again to sit against the further armrest. “You weirdo, Keiji,” he laughed, hoping they couldn’t hear how light-headed he was in his voice.

“Koutarou,” Keiji said, and they reached out to put their hand over his fist, gentling the grip. Koutarou didn’t stop them, staring at their hand and trying to keep his breathing steady. “You like playing the innocent one.”

His eyes snapped to Keiji’s face, but their expression was even and nonjudgmental, no sign of anger or annoyance. “What does that mean?” Koutarou asked. Avoidant laughter stalled in his throat, certain that Keiji was not going to let this go.

“You like to pretend that you’re not weird like me, but you are. You’ve thought about it, haven’t you?”

“Maybe,” Koutarou mumbled, looking away. “Just once or twice.”

“Once or twice?” Keiji echoed.

“A few times,” Koutarou amended, feeling his cheeks heat under their prying gaze. His gaze was fixed on the rug in front of the TV.

The spread of Keiji’s grin was audible. “Good boy.”

Koutarou shot up to sit straight, whole body tensed to belay the shiver of arousal. Keiji liked to tease, but this was on a whole other level, and Koutarou wished it had less of an effect on him than it did.

“Why does it matter?” he asked, voice high and strangled. Keiji’s right hand, the one not resting on his thigh, ran up his spine to rest against the back of his neck. Their cool palm was a relief against his blushing skin. “We can’t…”

“I changed my mind,” Keiji said. Koutarou narrowed his eyes, finally looking up to give them a wary stare. Keiji never changed their mind - like him, they were stubborn to a fault, but unlike him, their opinions were usually based on solid reasons and fact, not whimsy and gut feeling. The fire that had been building in his stomach was suddenly doused with freezing fear. Were they mocking him?

Keiji must have been able to read all of this on his face, because they spoke again, slow and measured. “I used to be very intoxicated by you. I have more control of myself - like developing a tolerance, I suppose. Are you scared?”

Koutarou shook his head. He was scared of being laughed at, of accidentally making some unforgivable mistake, but Keiji wasn’t asking to hear about that. They were asking if he trusted them, and there was only ever one answer for that.

Keiji smiled, their sharp teeth catching on their lip. Koutarou’s eyes followed the gleaming white, and Keiji caught him in it, letting out a low laugh. “You’re eager.”

Koutarou shook his head quickly. “No, I just -”

“I like it,” Keiji interrupted, stalling any more lies. “I like that I can tell what you’re thinking so easily.”

“‘Cause you’re stupidly good at reading my mind,” Koutarou grumbled. Keiji ran their hand over his neck soothingly, and tugged at him, sitting back on the couch to show him where they wanted him. Koutarou went willingly, settling in Keiji’s lap with his knees pressed against their hips, his hands free to comb through their hair. Sometimes he wondered if they soothed him like they would a spooked animal, through touches and warmth more than words, but Koutarou didn’t mind. Keiji tended to pull him into their lap, and while his legs were longer and it probably looked awkward and ungainly, it was one of his favourite places to be. His world narrowed to just Keiji when they were right in front of him like this, their hands on his hips and their firm thighs underneath him. He loved it, and he loved even more that he could squirm just so and see it reflected on their face, even if it was just in the slightest twitch of their eyebrow. He couldn’t read Keiji like they could him, but he still knew some of their buttons, and pressing them was the only way of getting them on equal ground.

Koutarou leaned back into their hand, his ass rolling against them as if by accident, just a byproduct of him making himself more comfortable. Keiji’s hand tightened on his neck for a second before they released him, eyes and voice dark. “Like I said - eager.”

“‘S your fault.”

“Oh, is it?”

Koutarou nodded, gaze caught on Keiji’s mouth again. “Being so… so hot. You know.”

Keiji’s lips revealed more of their teeth as they smirked. “Ah, I see. I’m terribly sorry.”

“You should make it up to me by carrying me to bed,” he heard himself say distantly, momentarily disconnected from what felt like an outrageously selfish request, and he blinked and flinched away, ready to humiliate himself in apology, but Keiji just said -

“Very well.”

And they spread their hands over his hips and ass, and they stood up and lifted him with them, and then they were  _ carrying him, _ taking slow, careful steps towards the bedroom. Koutarou clutched at their neck, laughing like a child on a rollercoaster, disbelieving and exhilarated. “You're not supposed to give in like that!”

Keiji kissed the side of his face, focused on evenly distributing both their weights as they walked. “I wanted to.” They set him down just before they've approached the bed, and Koutarou tried to mold his smile into a pout with little success.

“Eh! Not on the bed?”

“I want to put towels down,” Keiji said, looking over at him. “If we're doing this.”

Koutarou looked back, and then he laughed loudly, leaning on the bedpost to keep himself upright. “Of course you wanna put towels down! Fuck, I love you, you're so… alright, which towels? The ones you hate?” There was a particular set of towels that Koutarou had bought because he felt bad wearing out Keiji's towels with his post-gym showers. They were polka dotted and bright orange, and Keiji couldn't stand them. 

“I don't  _ hate _ them,” Keiji replied quickly, “I just think they're… we don't have to use those.”

“Nah, I'm happy sacrificing them,” Koutarou said, “for this, anyway.”

Keiji gave him a weighted look. “You really want to do this, don't you?”

Koutarou swallowed. “Yeah. But you're not doing it just for my sake, are you? I wouldn't like that.”

Keiji let out a quiet laugh. “I am definitely not doing this just for you,” they said. “Trust me, Koutarou, this is not a selfless act.”

Flushing again, Koutarou nodded. “Good. I don't want it to be. It's not for me either - not that I thought you were worried, I just - well, you know?” He shifted his weight, embarrassed. “I'll, um, I'll go get the towels!”

Keiji watched him go, amused.

Koutarou got the towels from where they’d been folded up in the bathroom, and came back to spread them out over the sheets. “I have to admit,” he said as he stepped back to admire his handiwork, “I didn’t exactly get them ‘cause of their sex appeal.”

“They are ugly,” Keiji agreed.

“Keiji!”

Keiji shrugged unapologetically and sat down. “Hopefully we ruin them.”

Koutarou inhaled sharply and let out a frustrated groan. “You make things sexy and then unsexy and then sexy again, you’re giving me whiplash!”

Keiji grinned, clearly aware of the impact their teeth had on Koutarou. “Good,” they said. “I like it when you’re overwhelmed. Come here.” They pulled him into a kiss, licking into his mouth as their fingers explored under his t-shirt. Koutarou sighed into their mouth, letting them strip him of his shirt without resistance, not even bothering to note where it fell. He straddled their lap, and Keiji pressed their palm against the small of his back, encouraging him to sit straight so they could bend their head and wrap their lips around his nipple.

_ “Shit,” _ Koutarou swore, gripping Keiji’s hair tightly and rocking in their lap. Keiji hummed, tongue swirling around the hard pad of his nipple, hand coming up to play with the one being neglected by their mouth. The softness of their tongue on his sensitive skin made Koutarou buck with want, biting back swears - then Keiji scraped their teeth along his nipple and he moaned loudly, threatening to fall off their lap as pleasure rolled through him. “Keiji…!”

“I’ve got you,” Keiji murmured into his chest, pinching and rolling his other nipple in their hand. “I can smell it…”

Koutarou panted, holding their hair tightly. “Don’t bite me yet,” he warned between breaths. “I might - I might -”

“Come?” Keiji asked with amusement, lifting their head to look at him. Koutarou nodded, embarrassed.

“Eager,” Keiji enunciated slowly, but they took their hands off his chest, and Koutarou breathed out a sigh that was as mournful as it was relieved. “Can we have rules? It’s easier to control myself like that.”

Koutarou cocked his head in question. He was still straddling their lap, fingers dipping into the waistband of their jeans cheekily until Keiji gathered his hands in theirs to stop him.

“I suppose, when I pretend to be controlling you… it makes me feel more in control of my own urges.”

“Okay,” Koutarou said, busy trying to disentangle his hands from theirs so he could stick them down Keiji’s pants again. He liked when Keiji gave him rules to follow in bed. It gave him another way to show off, and he didn’t have to be anxious about accidentally doing things wrong, because he had been told what was wrong and what was right.

Keiji studied his face for a moment. “No touching without permission, then,” they said, and Koutarou reluctantly dropped his hands to his sides with a pout.

“Okay. And?”

“And… I’d like you to talk, when you can.”

“Talk? Like dirty talk?”

“Whatever you want to talk about,” Keiji said, stroking their hand up his spine. “It’s so I can easily gauge how you’re doing.”

“That’s not sexy…”

“It is,” Keiji reassured him. “You can’t do it wrong. I promise.” Their hands were soft and steady, just like the rest of them, and Koutarou couldn’t help but lean into them.

“Okay,” he said finally. He hadn’t said he was scared of doing it wrong, but he was always scared of doing it wrong, no matter what  _ it _ was. Keiji knew that. They tilted his head down, kissing him gently.

“You don’t have to be scared,” they said, “or nervous. Do you still want to do this?”

“Definitely,” Koutarou said. It was true that he was nervous, because he couldn’t avoid the fact that Keiji was straining themselves to give him an experience he wanted - but that didn’t mean he  _ didn’t _ want it, it just meant he had to treasure it even more.

“Me too,” Keiji said, and they looked young when they smiled, somehow more carefree than Koutarou had seen them in a long time. He laughed and wrapped his arms around their neck, kissing them again and again as they turned him around, pressing him into the sheets.

It was good, that Keiji wanted this too. It was scary. Everything with Keiji was scary, in the way a roller coaster is scary; the wait before the drop, the hanging moment before the free-fall. That’s how being with them felt.

“Now talk,” Keiji breathed into his skin as they kissed over his jaw, down his throat, nipping at his skin. “What are you thinking?”

“I’m thinking - I’m thinking that you’re a  _ tease,”  _ Koutarou groaned as Keiji moved away from his throat. “I’m thinking that this is really hot, I’m thinking that I better not mess this up…”

Keiji sat up between his thighs, broad palms stroking over his chest and down his abdomen, toying with the button of his jeans. “Why would you mess it up?”

“‘Cause I mess up everything,” Koutarou said, lifting his hips. “And I don’t wanna lose you, you know? I love you.”

Keiji smiled, pushing his jeans down to his knees. They hadn’t said it back yet, but they didn’t mind Koutarou saying it as much as he wanted, which was almost as good.

“And I’ve dreamt of this for a while,” Koutarou admitted, cheeks burning. “So I want it to be good for you.”

“You’re always good for me,” Keiji replied, touching Koutarou’s hip bones over his boxers. They liked to follow the lines of his muscles, the straight planes of his body - Koutarou knew, even though they’d never said it, because that was where their hands and fingers gravitated, stroking the sculpted evidence of exercise. Koutarou liked that they liked it. He liked it a lot. “Look how well you’re doing now.”

Koutarou laughed, breathless and high-pitched. “You don’t need to be so gentle with me, Keiji!”

“I’ll be rough with you when I want to.”

His laughter stalled in his throat, a choked squeak escaping him in its place. Keiji grinned, leaning down to bite at his abs.  _ “God,  _ you’re awful,” he told them when he could breathe again. Koutarou reached down to push them away, but his hand tangled in their hair, reluctant to give even the pretense of rejection. “Absolutely terrible…”

Keiji pressed a hand against his cunt, and even through his boxers, he was dripping wet. They didn’t lift their head, looking at him from between his legs with a raised eyebrow. Koutarou bit his cheek, hips rising and falling to rock against their hand, seeking out more friction whenever they threatened to pull away. “Maybe that’s one of the things I like about you.”

“You’re a bit of a masochist,” Keiji observed, thumb pressing firmly on Koutarou’s swollen clit through the fabric. He jumped and moaned, twitching away from their hand.

“M-maybe--! Maybe a little bit, oh, shit--”

“That means we’re either a terrible match,” Keiji said, undeterred as they increased the pressure, Koutarou whining and trying to squirm out from under them, “Or a perfect one. I’m going to take your underwear off now. You know what to say if you want me to stop, right?”

Koutarou nodded, taking huge, gulping breaths when Keiji finally relented and lifted their hand from his clit. “I don’t want you to,” he panted, and Keiji rewarded him with another grin, teeth glinting. “When are you gonna bite me?”

“Soon,” Keiji promised, sitting up and beginning to unbutton their shirt. Koutarou wanted to help, but he was still recovering from the knife-edge he’d been on, and he was reduced to watching with big, wanting eyes as Keiji shrugged off their shirt and folded it neatly, leaning down to lay it flat on the floor. He regained enough control of himself to squirm impatiently, rubbing his knee against Keiji’s side.

“Are you gonna bite my neck? Or my shoulder? Or my thigh? Oh, you can’t do that one if you’re gonna fuck me…”

“I can do whatever I want,” Keiji said darkly, wrapping their hands around his thighs to press him down into the mattress, “and you need to stop being so demanding, or you won’t get anything.”

“Keiji…!” Koutarou’s protests died on his lips as they quelled him with a stare, but he still pouted as he lifted his hips obediently for them to slip his boxers off, cold air blowing over his hot cunt. “I don’t know how to talk without being demanding…”

“Then learn,” Keiji said, as if it were that easy, and pulled his thighs further apart, bending down to bite where his thigh met his groin, diamond points of their teeth threatening to pierce his skin. Their hands held him down as he struggled, gasping in short pulls of air, the pain overwhelming without the relief of that indecent jolt - he waited for it, hoped for it, but Keiji let his skin bruise without breaking it. Koutarou stared at them as they sat back, breathing harshly as he watched their thumb smoothing over the mark that was already forming, a mirror image of their teeth imprinted on him. “I didn’t say you could stop talking, Koutarou.”

“I hate it when you tease me,” came out of his mouth in a rush of air, and he groaned, falling back. His thigh tingled, aching for them just like the rest of him. “Except I  _ don't,  _ I really don't, I love it, but I hate loving it… Or I love hating it, one of the two. I want you so fucking bad, Keiji, and you're killing me, making me wait for it like this.”

Keiji looked at him, eyes hot and slow over his face, moving over his flushed chest, his bitten abs, down to his cunt and the mark they'd just left. “Beg me,” they breathed, palming themselves through their trousers as they took him in. “Beg me to take you.”

_ “Fuck _ you,” Koutarou said emphatically, but Keiji just laughed in his face, stroking the line of their cock through their trousers. “Fuck you, you’re the worst, I hate you, I hate you…!”

“Don’t forget what’s at stake,” Keiji reminded him, and he swallowed back his next swear, kicking his legs restlessly.

“You know what I want--! I want you, I want your cock, I want you to fuck me until I cry, I want you to bite me and make me bleed, and kiss me with your red mouth, and make me come so hard I see stars, and I want to be so good for you that you’ll never want anything else, anyone else, Keiji,  _ Keiji--!” _

Keiji kissed him, hard and demanding, pressing him down into the mattress, their cock slick and firm against his thigh. “You’re doing so good, Koutarou,” they murmured into his mouth, snatches of praise that made his whole body hot and tense like he was about to come. A touch at his thigh served as warning, and then they entered him, pressing into him like they belonged there, like Koutarou’s cunt was meant to clasp around them, and he moaned, arching and pushing back against them.

_ “Fuck,  _ oh, god, thank you…”

Keiji’s grin was sharp and teasing, Koutarou barely able to glimpse it before they lowered their head to his bared throat, breathing unsteadily against his skin.

They fucked him, slow like rolling waves, each thrust washing over Koutarou and submerging him in warm, liquid pleasure before he resurfaced with a gasp. Keiji’s teeth were sharp, so sharp, and they were just breathing onto his skin, making him want, want, want -

_ “Please,” _ Koutarou whispered, voice breaking, “please, please -”

The pain was white hot against the warm molasses of arousal, abrupt and immense. He was vaguely aware of clenching, tensing up against Keiji and pulling them closer, but the only part of him that was  _ him _ was the skin under Keiji’s mouth, split to let his blood run and be drunk. They lapped at the puncture, the pain slowly fading enough to let Koutarou think. 

Its edge was dulled, but it was almost more present like this, the ache spreading through the rest of his body. Keiji was greedy, licking and drinking like they were starved and desperate to consume him. Just as he started to feel faint, arm falling from Keiji’s back to splay against the sheets, they pulled back to look at him. Their mouth was red. They were panting, and their eyes - once Koutarou could stop staring at their blood-stained lips - were blacker than he’d ever seen.

“You can’t get away now, Koutarou.”

Koutarou could hear his own breath escape his throat in a strangled whistle. “I don’t want to.”

Keiji’s tongue was no longer pink as they licked their lips. Koutarou’s throat ached. “Are you sure?”

He could say the word, Koutarou knew, and Keiji would stop, would pull back, would spend the rest of the evening tenderly taking care of him. For a split second, Koutarou imagined it - the wound  _ hurt, _ hurt like it never had before, like he had been stripped of some unknown defenses. But right now, soothing balms and gentle words wasn’t what Koutarou wanted. “I’m sure.”

“Don’t forget to talk,” Keiji told him, and then they sank their teeth into his shoulder, hips snapping to fuck into him hard and fast, and Koutarou cried out, the pain and pleasure intertwined and blinding - his tongue was big and dry in his mouth, and he didn’t know what he was saying, if he was saying anything at all, but Keiji hadn’t stopped, so he had to be speaking, and he hoped they never stopped, hope they never stop, hope they never stop at all -

Keiji pressed into him again and again, sucking blood from his shoulder, and Koutarou could barely breathe, barely speak, unable to hear himself over the blood rushing in his ears. “Keiji,” he gasped, hearing himself like he was underwater, drowning in the rush, “Keiji, Keiji, Keiji -”

Keiji must have heard something in the desperate tremble of breath, because they slowed their hips, teeth losing their grip on Koutarou’s shoulder enough to lick over the wound. “Koutarou,” they said, and their voice was unlike anything Koutarou had ever heard before - dark and rough, slow like they were drunk or drugged. They could not be parted from his wound for long, tongue seeking out the blood that was seeping out.

“I’m close,” Koutarou gasped, trying to push them away and pull them closer, body and mind unsure if he was fighting for less or more. “I don’t want to -”

Keiji growled, an inhuman sound, low and dark and terrifying, and their claws - for they were claws now, long and sharp and drawing blood - digging into his hips. They pushed him harder into the mattress, Koutarou letting out a breathless yelp as they forced his thighs further apart, and then they stared down at him, giving him a moment to breathe, to break the spell on them if he wanted.

Instead, Koutarou couldn’t take his eyes off them. This was not who he had laid out towels with, had laughed with and teased. This was someone else, something else, a creature of the dark born of need and hunger, mouth dripping with blood. Steady droplets were hitting Koutarou’s chest, and he realised like a lens coming into focus that it couldn’t all be his own. Keiji’s monstrous teeth had scraped up their own mouth and lips, all with the effort of holding themselves back for him.

Slowly, making sure he caught their ravenous gaze, Koutarou ran his finger through the pool of mingled blood on his chest and brought it to his own mouth, sucking it clean. He tasted rust and ink, like he was sucking on an old calligraphy brush. Keiji watched him like a wolf watches a rabbit, but Koutarou didn’t want to run. He didn’t fear the promise of hurt in their eyes - or at least he feared it no more than he ached for it. “I trust you,” he said finally, breath at last returning to his lungs. He kissed the tip of his finger and reached up, running it along their bottom lip and feeling the cuts there. “You don’t need to hold back.”

_ “Koutarou,” _ Keiji breathed, and it was like they were holy, like  _ he _ was holy, blessed and blessing all at once, and then they bore down on him, teeth and claws and ferocious, terrible love. Pain blurred with pleasure blurred with pain as they wound themselves around each other, feasting and taking and giving, and Koutarou could feel Keiji’s mouth like it was his own, drinking and drinking, but his head stayed clear and free of damp fog. He felt sensations in parts, or as a whole, or like everything was happening at once, the spool of time looping in on itself without ever moving on. The world lost structure, sequence, and all Koutarou knew was Keiji and the blinding delight of being theirs, of being them, of being nothing but two strands of the same thread, running together forever.

They kissed again and again, lips sliding slick and needy against each other, Keiji moving in him and drinking from him and marking him with their teeth and hands and cock, and Koutarou’s orgasm was a sharp buck of his thighs, a stolen inhale against a bloody mouth, blunt fingers digging into familiar skin. His orgasm was an earthquake, a torrent of light that shook him apart, it was a cry that hurt his throat, it was his eyes stinging as if from watching the sun, it was every time he’d been in this bed with Keiji, every touch they’d shared, time looping again and again and again to press so many impressions into the same moment that he couldn’t breathe, pieces of him too scattered to even be afraid.

Suddenly, his skin was his own, snapping back into his own shape. He panted into Keiji’s mouth, eyes closed - their foreheads were touching, breathing each other’s air. Keiji’s hands were on his hips, caressing, and his chest and shoulder was slick with blood. His own hands were around their neck, and only with effort could he loosen the desperate grip, forcing his own muscles to yield. Their cock was inside him, pulsing with orgasm, and his thighs were shivering with exertion around their hips. His toes were cold, any hope of blankets long since kicked off the bed.

“Holy shit,” Koutarou breathed. The rawness of his throat made speaking above a whisper hurt, but he had so much to say, so much to tell Keiji about, everything he’d felt, everything he’d seen of their future.

Keiji opened their eyes slowly, dazed and confused as they took in the sight of him. Koutarou smiled at them, tilting his head to lick gently at their lips, cuts already healing. He was content to wait until Keiji could speak - this was his favourite place, underneath them while they were coming down, still inside him, the closest they could be. Koutarou watched as humanity settled in their joints, their bestial nature unwilling to give up ground but slowly being tamed despite that. They were beautiful like this, half human and half other, bloody-lipped and almost snarling, skin gleaming as if nothing like flesh lay underneath. Koutarou told them so, his throat aching with the effort.

“Koutarou,” they said, as if his name was a language unto itself, a single word to capture every meaning possible. “Koutarou…”

“I'm safe,” Koutarou told them in a whisper, smiling. “I feel fine.” Keiji exhaled, relieved, and rested their forehead against his.

“That was… dangerous.”

“So are most things worth doing.”

“You're too reckless,” Keiji said, deep green eyes clear like sea glass.

“That's why I have you,” Koutarou replied, his voice still a croak, and grinned at them. “And this was your idea, remember?”

Keiji opened their mouth and then shut it again, visibly stumped. Koutarou laughed, not caring that it hurt, and pulled them into a gentle kiss, too tired to deepen it.

“I love you,” he said.

“I love you too,” Keiji said, and Koutarou could hear the fondness bubbling under the surface, so tangible that he almost couldn't hear the words themselves - and then they registered, and he reared back, gaping at them.

“You said it!”

Keiji nodded. “I said it.”

“Say it again!”

“I love you.”

Koutarou breathed out slowly. His eyes were stinging, and he had no way to hide it, vulnerable and exposed. He shifted, humiliation making him want to run away when nothing else had, but Keiji reached up to thumb at the corner of his eye, soothing the tears gathered there.

“I love you,” they said again, slow and honest. “Will you let me take care of you, now?”

Koutarou nodded, and they curled into each other again, resting for a moment in the nest that they had built, in the love that they had made.  _ I love you. _ Koutarou closed his eyes, feeling how his body ached all over with evidence.

**Author's Note:**

> twitter: [@mnstrfck](http://twitter.com/mnstrfck)


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